


I Think I've Broken Something

by The_Reverend



Series: Whumptober 2020 Challenge Ficlets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Drugs, Heavy Angst, M/M, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Reverend/pseuds/The_Reverend
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Whumptober 2020 Challenge Ficlets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951903
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I Think I've Broken Something

**Whumptober 2020 Challenge #12: I think I’ve broken something - Broken down/broken bones/broken trust**

_[Wakanda, medical facility.]_

**_“_ ** _You sure about this?”_

_“I can't trust my own mind. So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing . . . for everybody.”_

“For everybody,” Steve mouths, staring out the window. He needs to keep his back to Bucky or he will fall apart right here.

The silence is palpable, stretches out, becomes a third presence.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Bucky asks, voice high pitched, different.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve is past hoping at this point, is resigned, undone.

Bucky thins his lips, looks down.

“Would it matter?” Bucky still won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “That’s what I thought.” It comes out more bitterly than Steve expected, but now it’s open.

“Then the only point is to cut myself open as a parting gift. We’ve done it enough already, why don’t you pull out some old reruns if you need to pad your ego.”

“ _Steve._ This isn't how I wanted-”

“Hmm. Thought you had it all figured out. Anyway, we’re done here. You’ll let me know when we’re not.” 

Bucky’s wide eyes do fly up to meet his then, and he nods, firmly, stepping away towards the hydraulic door.

Heart pounding and just barely keeping the bile clenched behind his teeth, Steve strides purposefully out without a backward glance, down the stairs, out the gates, until he could turn the corner and retch under the sculpted protea bushes. 

A quick glance confirms that somehow that whole production went unobserved, so he shrinks deeper into the thick bushes to avoid what he’s sure is coming.

And yes - there goes T’Challa, pounding down the steps, calling after him, running straight along the path from the palace, calling some guards into the chase, but moving further away from where Steve is crouched.

Once they’ve disappeared in a literal cloud of dust, Steve slips quietly from the depth of the bushes and takes off in the other direction.

He’s in no mood to be pitied, cajoled, or convinced. He needs to be alone for a while without someone trying to make him _talk about his feelings_ or _analyze his choices_. 

Is that too much to ask? It feels unfair that T'Challa is recruiting palace guards to help him corner Steve for nagging and worrying.

Thus, a tactical retreat and regroup is necessary. 

He skulks his way off the palace grounds. 

If he’d been thinking ahead, he would’ve hit his room first. 

Time to take stock. 

He has a jacket, his boots, his phone, a knife, utility belt, his wallet, and the small gun tucked into the inner jacket pocket. He’s sustainable.

He crushes his phone under his foot before he has a chance to second guess it. Feels himself relax.

Now he just needs to find a place to hole up so he can be alone to...fall apart...in whatever form that takes.

He pushes his way into the thickening foliage then pauses, considering. If he follows his first instinct and trudges into the jungle to lick his wounds, he’ll likely be more trackable.

He doubles back and enters the edges of the city. He’ll find an unoccupied rooftop apartment to brood for as long as he needs. It’s psychosomatic, but he can practically feel T’Challa nipping at his heels and will until he goes to ground. 

His friend means well, and he’ll apologize to him later. Much later. When he’s figured himself out, okay?

He spends over an hour casing the city outskirts before he finds what he wants. He slithers in through the cupola and then stretches himself out on the floor immediately. 

He can hold tension for hours, days, but this was different, draining.

It had been all he could do to keep himself together long enough to walk out. He shoves his fists into his face, letting it sink in, now that he’s secured his privacy.

He’d wanted him to _watch?_

Fucking why? 

And do what? Beg? For something he had no chance of getting? 

Both those requests seem oddly cruel and his breath hitches in his chest. 

Was he really supposed to stand there and wish him well? 

His gut lurches behind his sobs and it’s seeing Bucky off on one of the fake dates all over again.

_You’re not gonna see me off, Stevie?_

_Fuck you, Bucky, get bent._

_Stevie, you could do the same thing-_

_Do not call me that and then leave this house._

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, look, you know this is the best thing. For everybody._

Instantly enraged, Steve darts his gaze around to find something he can destroy.

He’d known they were reprising their roles, but Bucky hadn’t even bothered with a new line? 

How pathetic.

He finally finds a stack of firewood he splinters with his bare hands, wood shards flying and embedding themselves into his hands. 

The pain is both grounding and offensive. He’s not trying to punish himself, for once. Why should he hurt more? If they’re handing out oblivion, he’ll get in line.

But that’s denied to him. He doesn’t get to check out through cryo or booze or Wakandan brain surgery. 

He has to sit, and think, and remember. He doesn’t even need to sleep that much. 

But what he does have is his emergency stash of Cap-specific drugs in his medkit. If he times it right, he can knock himself out for a couple days, then see how he feels after that.

  
  
  
_As he hunkers down for the long haul, he misses the message being relayed along the kimoyo beads of the guards fanned out around the city:_

_“We must find the Captain. Let him know that Barnes is looking for him. He says he will wait if the Captain will return to talk with him. You say there’s no signs?”_

  
  
  



End file.
